


On Standby

by Nejinee



Series: These Streets 'verse [2]
Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Action, Alternate Universe - Police, Anal Sex, Beefy Bucky, Cop Steve, Humor, Law Enforcement, M/M, Pining, Sexual Tension, Swearing, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-25
Updated: 2017-07-25
Packaged: 2018-12-06 15:24:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,021
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11603415
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nejinee/pseuds/Nejinee
Summary: The ongoing struggles of Steve Rogers, Police Officer and keeper of the peace. His rounds with the locals keep him busy and his issues with Bucky Barnes, well, they keep him busy too.





	On Standby

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into 中文 available: [On Standby 隨時待命](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12909687) by [carolchang829](https://archiveofourown.org/users/carolchang829/pseuds/carolchang829)



> This is part of series now, go figure! I recommend reading part 1, but I suppose it isn't necessary. :)

“No sirens,” Steve murmured.

Sam gave him some heavy side-eye but he nodded in agreement. “Don’t wanna be swarmed by the locals, do I?” he said.

Steve tapped his finger on his knee. They rolled up and cut the engine.

Steve took a deep breath, grabbed the legal work, and opened up the car door.

“You know, you could send someone down here to do this stuff,” Sam said wryly, slamming his own door shut. “Why not send Rand? He could do with the experience.”

“Nah,” Steve said, heading up the slope, the grass slipping under his uniform boots. The rain had done a great job watering everything well this season.

They arrived at their destination and Steve rapped his knuckles against the door.

After a bit of clattering and muffled voices, an elderly woman with a walker opened the door.

She just stared at Steve until recognition registered in her eyes.

“Oh no, officers,” she said with a frown. “He didn’t do nothing this time.”

Steve sucked his teeth, “Sorry, ma’am, we got a warrant.” He held up the ziplocked paper with the official stamps and signatures needed. “Simon’s gotta come with us.”

She stared up at him, then scowled, dropping the sweet old biddy act.

“ _Simon!_ ” she hollered. “What did you do?”

The man himself appeared from around a wall, a bagel hanging from his mouth. The minute he spotted Sam and Steve he spat it out, followed by a stream of profanities.

“Oh hell no,” Sam hissed, just as Simon made a run for it, crashing through the back of the house.

“Sorry, ‘scuse us, ma’am,” Steve brushed past the woman hastily and leapt over a busted ottoman.

“Simon!” Sam yelled, thundering ahead, sliding around the bend, into the kitchen, and spotting the wildly swinging back door. “Man, why does he  _always_  run?”

Steve huffed and followed suit, leaping right over the backdoor railing and out into the back alley that ran the length of the housing complex. A great start to his day.

 

* * *

  


“My, you’re looking spiffy,” Karen said, smiling sweetly as she rounded her desk. Steve grimaced and tugged at the tie he was wearing over his formal police uniform. “Had to get it dry-cleaned,” he murmured, pressing the lapels flat.

“What’s the big deal? You finally making it to Washington?” She winked.

“Oh no,” Steve chuckled. “Award ceremony downtown. A couple colleagues got some recognition coming their way.”

Karen smiled and slid into her seat. “No one from this precinct though?”

Steve shook his head. “Not yet,” he aimed for cheerful just as Sam rounded the corner in his matching uniform.

“I feel like one of those ken dolls,” he grumbled. “You know, the new revised African American versions made to appease my people? Ken _ye_. Ugh.”

Steve chuckled. “You’ll be okay while we’re out for the morning?” he asked Karen.

She nodded brightly. “All good here, Cap. Just hope it doesn’t turn into that episode of Brooklyn nine-nine.” She tapped away at her keyboard. The station was bustling as always, but there shouldn’t be much to worry about. Steve frowned. He still needed to watch whatever that show was, even if just to stop people bugging him relentlessly.

“Oh, you mean the one where the horse shits on the stage?” Sam cackles.

Karen laughed and pointed at them. “You got it.”

Steve rolled his eyes, “Do I really need to watch it?”

Sam patted him on the shoulder. “Nah, you can just be an out-of-date old man forever, Cap. It’s what everyone expects.”

 

Steve scowled and adjusted his hat.

 

* * *

  


“Now, Simon,” Steve said, after dropping off the man in question back home. “You gotta listen this time. Your court date’s set for a month from now.”

“But it wasn’t my  _fault_ ,” the other man groused petulantly. Steve raised a brow slowly, which made Simon wither a little. “I mean, okay, maybe it was a bit my fault.”

“You rob another liquor store and you’ll never make it out alive, Simon,” Steve sighed. He turned to the man’s mother. “Now, you keep an eye on him, Dot.”

She just glared at him. “You can go now,” she said.

Steve sighed and nodded before stepping back outside and into the summer sunshine.

He loped down the road, radioing in his update to dispatch.

Nothing pressing was happening, so he waved Sam over from the cruiser. His partner rolled his head and walked up the street to meet him halfway.

“What now?” Sam asked.

Steve smiled, “Officer Wilson, smile a little.”

Sam just made a face. “Give me one good reason.”

Steve cocked his head to the side, “Heard about a bake sale down the street, if you’re interested.”

Sam perked up at that. “Oh, well, okay then. Daddy could do with some sugar.”

Steve rolled his eyes and led the way. “You make everything sound so lewd.”

Sam snorted.

By the time they’d made it to the crowd of kids and tables, Steve was feeling the burning heat.

“What do we have here?” Sam asked, standing in front of the first table.

The first kid behind the table just eyed him warily.

A short redhead popped up beside him.

“Hello, officers,” she cried out. “Would you like to try some sweet cookies, like these chocolate chip ones?” she waved her hand over the display like Vanna White herself. “Or would you like one of the refreshing mint chocolate chip ice creams donated by Mr. Eliani’s convenience store?” She pointed to the red cooler on the floor beside her with a wide grin. Steve wasn’t certain old Eliani had agreed to this.

“Hi Patsy,” Steve said. He smiled at her enthusiasm, and looked over the paper table cloth and the cheap ribbons tied to the stop sign. Business wasn’t exactly booming.

“Huh,” Sam hummed, “You got any white chocolate macadamia?”

“Certainly!” she cried, leaning over to grab at a container with a purple lid. She cracked it open. “Fresh from Miss Temple herself!”

“Oh, Miss Temple, huh?” Sam laughed. “How much?”

“One dollar for a cookie, two for ice cream and three-fifty for a pop.”

Sam’s brows rose. “Steep.”

“What’s the cause?” Steve asked, eyeing the multitude of snacks.

“We’re raising funds for the elementary school gym renovation,” Patsy said, grinning.

The boy next to her frowned, “I thought it was for butt cancer?” he asked. Another girl from the other table leaned over and whispered really loud. “No, we said it’s for the children’s hospital! People love little sick kids. Don’t you ever listen!”

Patsy hissed and smacked them both, her eyes wide.

Sam and Steve looked at one another.

“Do we wanna know?” Sam asked.

Steve sighed and shook his head.

“All right,” Sam said. “Gimme ten macadamias, ten choc chip and the last m&m brownie over there.”

The kids gleefully packed up snacks in baggies, not unlike a few of the adults in their lives, probably.

While Sam was busy getting a talking to by the other girl, Steve took Patsy aside.

“Hey, what’s the real deal?” He got down on one knee so as to be at her eye-level.

Patsy squirmed. “For  _charity_ , officer Rogers. Ain’t you always sayin’ we gotta help the misfortunate and all?”

Steve raised his brows.

She squirmed and pouted.

“You know hustlin’ folks for false charity is a criminal offence? It’s called fraud.” he said. “Remember when Mrs Finch got locked up for that? She’s got another two years to go.”

Her eyes went wide, “But I’m only ten! You can’t send me to jail.”

Steve’s smile was small, “Yeah? Well then tell me what’s really going down.”

“I don’t wanna get in trouble,” she murmured.

Slow, heavy footsteps sounded behind them. “Hey, Patsy,” came a droll, deep voice. “You still selling the good stuff?”

Steve twisted around and stared up at a familiar face.

“Barnes,” he said, surprised, but trying to keep his voice level.

“Rogers,” the other man drawled. “You buggin’ little miss Patsy here? She’s only doing her civic duty by keeping the neighbourhood high on sugar.”

Steve sighed and dropped his head. He stood up and squared his shoulders. “Just wondering what the real donations are for, is all,” he murmured.

God but if Bucky didn’t have the most handsome face around. He’d caught the sun quite a bit since last time Steve had seen him. He had some real five-o’clock shadow going on as well.

Bucky sniffed and looked Steve over, probably for any kind of snitch motives.

He gently rested his left hand on Patsy’s hair. “Hey, kid, you can tell officer Rogers,” he murmured gently.

Patsy made a face. “But he’s a cop.”

“Go on,” Bucky nudged. “It ain’t bad.”

Patsy twisted on her feet, unsure. “Okay,” she murmured. “We’re trying to raise enough for Mister Cage’s bail.” she said so softly Steve almost missed it.

His face broke into a soft smile.

“Really?”

She nodded.

“Well, see now that’s not so bad. I thought you were raking people over,” he said.

“No! I don’t wanna go to jail,” she simpered.

“Hey, hey,” Steve got down on his knee again. “Raising bail to help someone ain’t a federal crime. That’s okay, you know?”

She eyed him warily, and looked at Bucky for confirmation.

“You just gotta be honest with me, else I can’t help,” Steve said, standing up. He pulled out his wallet and thumbed through some bills.

“Mr Barnes, didn’t you say you love eating mint ice cream?”

Bucky raised a brow at that, “Maybe.”

Steve put the cash in Bucky’s hand. “Be real generous of you to buy all those cookies too, huh?”

Bucky looked down at the money, then over at the bake sale. “All of it?” he asked.

Steve nodded. “Yeah, I mean, I’d  _love_  to have some, but you don’t have to share or anything.”

Barnes just smiled, “All right, Miss Patsy, you want to pack up those containers for me?”

Patsy jumped up and down gleefully and ran off to gather up her crew to get it all loaded.

 

* * *

  


“Holy moly,” Karen gasped when Sam and Steve dropped boxes and boxes of tupperware cookies on her desk. “Where on earth…”

“Bake sale,” Steve huffed. “For the team. Let ‘em know.” He opened up one container and yanked out a misshapen gingerbread man with a missing foot.

“Where from?” Karen leaned over a selection of cookies herself.

“Down by Lansing park,” Sam sighed and stretched his arms out. “Cap over here got hustled real good.”

“Oh, yeah, those kids are so cute,” Karen smiled, biting into a black-as-sin chocolate brownie.

Sam nodded, as Steve slumped into his own chair at his desk. He logged in, checking his emails.

“Yeah, old Rogers really has a soft spot for a cute smile and big blue eyes, huh,” Sam said, biting into a cookie.

Steve glared at him sharply over his monitor.

Sam just laughed in retaliation.

 

* * *

  


“Simon!” Sam groused, wrestling the man into submission. “You’ve had way too much to drink!”

“Police brutality!” Simon yelped, kicking and squirming. Sam had only just gotten him out of the squad car and the man was already trying to make a break for it. “Help!”

Steve sighed and helped Sam get the man into the station.

“Put him in the tank,” Steve said, “I’ll handle the paperwork.”

“A good overnight stay at hotel Polizia, huh?” Sam said gruffly, pulling Simon down the hall, yelling obscenities as usual.

Steve got to his desk and pulled up the correct documents and clicked  _print_. He got up to stand by the printer, the fluorescent lighting sharp and grating at his eyes. The ancient machine chugged away, slowly spitting out the papers he’d need to fill out by rote. At least by now, he had all Simon’s details without having to check everything twice.

He put in a phone call to the man’s mother and suffered through another tirade.

“Let him dry out!” Dot yelled into the phone before slamming it in Steve’s eardrum.

He sighed and finished up what he could for the night.

“Ah, damnit!” he heard Sam yelp. “Simon! Tell me that’s booze and you did  _not_  just wet yourself!”

 

* * *

  


The radio crackled loudly.

“We got a four-one-five outside Hennessy’s, Jackson Lane,” the dispatcher read out.

Sam responded and hit the switch for the lights and siren. “Anything else we need to know?” he asked.

“Nothing much,” dispatch responded. “Suspects seen gathering, officers on the scene.”

“Disturbance, huh?” Sam said, as Steve pulled a u-turn expertly.

“We’ll see about that,” Steve huffed.

 

When they pulled up to the Hennessy parking lot, Rumlow was already there with his partner, arms up.

“Hey!” Steve barked. He’d already seen people scattering. “Put the gun down!”

Rumlow looked over his shoulder. “Suspect is dangerous, Cap,” Rumlow growled.

“Shit,” Sam muttered from behind Steve.

“Officer Rogers!” Claire Temple came running up to him, “Can you get your drooling hound to back off!”

“Gun  _down_ ,” Steve hissed and pushed at Rumlow’s outstretched arms. He glared at the other officer until Rumlow relented and stepped back.

Steve turned to look at the small crowd gathered.

“What the hell happened?” Sam asked loudly.

Steve just turned to eye the suspect Rumlow had been aiming at and scowled.

“ _Really_ , Barnes?” He snipped.

Bucky scowled right back at him, hands behind his head, blood running over his lip and chin from a very busted nose.

“What happened?” Sam repeated himself. He was scribbling down notes, taking in everyone’s names.

“This  _jackass_  was trying to make off with supplies from the clinic,” Claire said sharply, hand waving, and it was only then that Steve saw the man sitting on the gravel with his back against a car wheel. He was clearly whimpering, gripping his elbow that hung limply at his side.

“When I arrived, I found  _him_ ,” Rumlow pointed at Bucky, “Beating the tar out of the guy.”

“I wasn’t–“ Bucky growled slowly.

“Shut your mouth!” Rumlow yelled.

“Officer!” Steve barked. “Stand down. Get to your car and wait for me.”

Rumlow clearly wanted to retort but he relented at Steve’s look.

Steve turned, putting his fists on his hips. He nodded at the droopy guy on the floor. “You break his arm?” he asked Bucky.

Bucky shrugged.

Steve scowled, “What  _happened?”_

Bucky said nothing.

Claire Temple rolled her eyes and stepped up. “Clinic stays open late on Fridays. We get a lot of drop-ins. Guy came in for his methadone, and the new nurse isn’t used to the idiots in this town yet. So he made a grab for a box of new needles and shit.” She huffed loudly, “We don’t have enough funding to allow every meth head to relieve us of equipment we don’t  _just_  use on junkies.”

Steve listened while Sam took notes.

“Barnes was just there, and when Carol shouted, he followed the guy, chased him down. That’s all. I followed, fast as I could, but someone else called it in over here. Clinic’s four damn blocks away.”

Nurse Temple was one of the smartest people around and Steve had no worries in regard to her sincerity. “And he broke his arm how?” He pointed to the whimpering man.

Claire raised a brow. “I doubt it’s  _actually_  broken. And if it is, it’s because he tripped over his own stupid feet in terror.” She waved a hand in Barnes’ direction. “Anyone would if  _that_  much muscle was running them down.”

She looked about done with it all.

Steve rubbed at his brow.

“And the rest of you?” he asked, looking at the small crowd.

“Mister Barnes didn’t do nothin’ wrong,” a kid said sharply. “I saw him almost catch the guy, but the idiot tripped and fell on his face. Swear.”

The man on the ground whined loudly.

“You willing to make a statement?” Steve asked the kid. The teenager faltered.

“I am,” Claire said, hands on hips. That seemed to spur more folks into action. So while Sam took interviews, Steve went over to the clinic to check in with the other woman, Carol.

“He was  _amazing_ ,” she breathed with big, starry eyes. “I’ve never seen a person vault the counter like that before.”

“Uh huh,” Steve sighed. “Well, if you could come down to the station in the morning and give a statement, that would be great.”

She nodded fervently.

 

Once the crowd had cleared, Sam got the guy with the busted arm checked out and into handcuffs.

“Oh, quit whining,” Sam said, closing the squad car door. “Nurse says you got more of a bruised ass than a broken arm.”

He turned when Steve approached. “What’s the deal with Rumlow?” he asked quietly.

Steve scowled, “Says Barnes was giving a beatdown, so he stepped in.”

Sam frowned. “The robber, he did not look like he got a Barnes beatdown. I’ve seen one of those before. He’d be pissing blood.”

Steve stared at Sam. They both were clearly thinking the same thing.

 

Thankfully, most of the crowd had peeled off. “Okay, Barnes, you’re coming back to the station with us,” Steve sighed.

 

* * *

  


Steve leaned against the small cell’s bars. “I brought you a bottle of water,” Steve said.

Bucky looked up, face still covered in dry blood. He didn’t say a thing.

Steve rolled his eyes. “I can’t release you until you tell me how you got that,” he said.

“I already said,” Bucky grunted.

“That you have a chronic nosebleed. Do I  _look_  that stupid?” Steve asked.

Barnes actually gave a quirk of his lips. “Maybe.”

Karen appeared at his elbow. “Brought the swab box,” she said gently.

Steve looked at the medical container in her dainty hands and sighed. “Miss Page here’s gonna come clean you up, okay?”

Bucky just grunted.

“You think–“ Karen uttered carefully.

“He’s fine, I promise,” Steve said gently. “Wouldn’t hurt a fly.”

She twisted her mouth to the side, then nodded.

 

* * *

  


“So we finally get to investigating the bastard!” Sam cried, clinking his beer with Steve.

Steve snorted and took a long swig. “Yep,” he said, taking in a sharp breath. “One too many write-ups and commissioner’s gotta take a look.” He couldn’t help grinning.

“‘Bout damn  _time_ ,” Sam said.

 

* * *

  


It was a week later when Steve found himself off-duty, grocery shopping at O’Keefe’s market, the podunk grocer down the way from his house.

He stared at the price difference between the romaine lettuce versus the iceberg.

Whatever, he dropped both into his basket.

“Officer,” Mrs Phillips nodded as she passed.

“Ma’am,” he nodded right back.

“I heard you’ve got some good news,” she said with a wistful smile.

“I do?” he asked, brows rising.

“The old Dawson house? Heard you just moved in,” Mrs Phillips said.

Steve blinked, “Oh! Yes, yeah. Uhm, yeah.” He scratched at his day-off scruff that covered his chin.

“It was on the market a real long time.” She smiled at him, “It’s so nice to have people from the neighbourhood moving back in. It’s a shame you ever had to leave before.”

Steve ducked his head, “Yeah, well, I worked hard, saved up and here we are.”

She patted his arm. “That’s nice, dear.”

 

* * *

  


“Where is he?” Steve sighed, walking up to America Chavez.

She tilted her chin. “Tryin’ to get into the wrong house. Been banging at the door for ages.”

She popped her bubblegum loudly, then grinned.

“Hey, it’s not funny,” Steve huffed, walking over. America walked beside him. “He’s an alcoholic, you know that. He needs help.”

America shrugged, “Ain’t like I’ve never seen it before.”

Which was true, but still.

Steve waved at Sam. “Over this way!” he yelled.

In the pale light of the early morning, the freshly rained upon street looked calm and quiet, except for the angry drunkard banging at someone else’s front door.

“You know,” America went on, walking along, “If the houses didn’t all look the same, maybe this shit wouldn’t happen.”

Steve quirked a smile her way. “Yeah, sure. Society’s real problem is with the architecture and housing division. Not the rampant crime and poverty.”

America shrugged, “Just sayin’.”

 

* * *

 

“Simon, listen,” Sam was saying, trying to get ahold of the man. “You gotta stop this, man.”

“No, leave me!” the man wriggled out of Sam’s way and rushed down the steps.

Steve followed him down.

Simon limped and wobbled as most drunks did, slurring and babbling away.

“I got rights!” he yelled, pulling at his baggy pants. “I got rights to my own home!”

“Simon…” Steve said wearily.

The other man paused, turned to look at Steve and then stuck out his tongue and waggled his hands beside his face before twisting sharply and making a run for it.

“Aw jeez,” Steve grunted and took off after him.

The man could fuckin’  _run_ , even for a drunkard.

“Damnit!” Steve heard Sam bark.

“Simon!” Steve yelled angrily, picking up the pace. His boots pounded against the asphalt, and again Steve was surprised at how fast some of the regulars could move.

“Simon!” came America’s cry from somewhere behind.

Steve huffed and buckled down.

“Oh no! Simon!” America yelled. “Your pants!”

“Shit,” Steve bit out, watching the fool stumble and grasp at his already flagging sweats. And yet, the man kept running, making Steve pant heavily to catch up.

By the time Steve managed to snag his jacket hood, Simon’s pants were pooled around his ankles, soaked from the wet ground and filthy to match.

“ _Why_  aren’t you wearing underwear?” Steve gasped, grabbing the man’s elbow and leading him all the way back up the street.

Simon just panted heavily, disoriented, then bent over and puked loudly.

Steve just made a face, and held on.

“Better out than in,” Simon garbled like an old pro.

America had apparently been following them, and walked up, barely out of breath. “Your junk’s out,” she pointed.

Simon just raised his nose into the air and said, “I like to let my boys  _breathe.”_

God, if anything could have made Steve’s morning worse, it  _would_  be Bucky Barnes leaning on his porch railing, coffee cup in hand, watching this whole thing unfold with a smirk on his face.

 

* * *

  


A knock at the door had Steve look up from washing dishes.

He dried his hands and walked over to unlock his front door.

Through the screen, he blinked.

“Barnes?” he uttered, surprised. And yes, James Barnes was slouching against his porch support pillar.

“Rogers,” Bucky said.

Steve pushed the screen door open, noticing the moon waxing in the clear night sky.

“It’s kinda late,” Steve said.

“I can come back in the morning,” Bucky shrugged, standing tall.

“No, no,” Steve wavered, and bit his lip. “You, uh, wanna come in?”

Bucky peered at him. “This ain’t a booty call,” he rumbled lowly.

Steve felt his skin warm hotly and was sure his ears at least would be red. “Jesus, I  _know_. How desperate do you think I am? Come in.”

Bucky entered and looked around. “Heard you moved in here,” he said. “First cop to live so close.”

Steve closed the front door and shrugged. “Well, I always wanted to own my own place, so yeah.”

“And you decided you’d come back  _here?”_  Bucky murmured sardonically. The irony was not lost on Steve.

“Hey, it’s a fixer, but I figure I can get her looking good again,” Steve walked by. “You need something to drink?”

“Nah,” Bucky said, following Steve to the kitchen, through the living room covered in boxes and miscellaneous crap.

Steve turned to face Bucky, arms folded. “So what’s the visit for?”

Bucky raised one brow, then slowly said, “I figured out what you did back at the station. Real tricky bastard, you are.”

Steve frowned. “What?”

Bucky rolled his eyes. “I wasn’t formally  _charged_. I thought hellfire was gonna rain down on me.”

Steve shrugged, “Yeah, well, with no one to  _press_  charges, and with a bunch of eyewitness statements…” he shrugged again.

Bucky shook his head, “And that little trick, sending in the pretty girl to soften me up?”

Steve frowned, “I don’t know what you mean.”

Bucky barked out a laugh. “C’mon, she was a real pro at it, huh? While she’s bandaging me up, cooing all nice a sweet, she gets me to open up a little?”

Steve scratched at his lip nonchalantly. “You know…” he began slowly, “Karen used to be one of the best investigative journalists down at the Bugle.”

Bucky folded his own arms, the sleeveless t-shirt showing off his thick forearms and biceps. “Uh huh,” he murmured.

Steve smiled slowly, “And she’s gunning for the next open detective position.”

“I knew it!” Bucky hissed. “Just ‘cos she was in plainclothes, ugh, you sly prick.”

Steve grinned for real, then. “Well, you weren’t gonna say shit to me. And she’s really good at her job.”

“Yeah, whatever,” Bucky growled and pushed at his hair that was falling out of his ponytail. “So that’s why that jackass cop is on suspension?”

“Yep,” Steve popped his lips. “That’s what happens sometimes, and to the best people, too.”

Bucky grinned at the way Steve’s smile slid free.

“Well, welcome to the neighbourhood, Officer Rogers.”

 

* * *

  


Natasha threw open her front door and scowled. “Aw, come on,  _really?_ ”

Steve sucked his teeth. “Sorry. Got a noise complaint. You know it’s past eleven?”

Natasha rolled her eyes and waved them in.

“Clint!” she barked, “Turn down the music!”

“Oh shit, narcs!” Scott Lang yelped and jumped out of the armchair he’d been lolling in.

Steve cocked a brow at that and hooked his thumbs into his belt.

“Actually,” Sam intoned drily, “We’re here about the noise. Now if you’re saying we need to be looking for illegal narcotics…”

Natasha threw a cushion at Lang. “Would you relax! God, we’re not in High School anymore! You’re old enough to drink!”

Scott blinked at the beer in his hand, “Oh. Right.”

Clint Barton came traipsing into the living room. “Oh, hey, fine officers of the law,” he nodded and saluted. “I turned down the music. Promise we ain’t up to any weird shit.”

Natasha covered her eyes and Steve chuckled.

“Real subtle,” Sam uttered.

“You want a beer?” Barton asked with a smile.

Steve shook his head and followed him and Natasha to the kitchen, where a bunch of neighbourhood people were gathered.

“Hey!” Jessica Jones cried out, leaning against Luke Cage, her boyfriend. “You know when the cops arrive, it means this is a rager!”

“A rager?  _Really?_ ” a squeaky voice piped up and both Sam and Steve zeroed in on it.

“Parker?” Sam huffed.

Steve gave Peter Parker a  _look_ , then glanced at the drink in the kid’s hand.

“Uh, hi Mr Rogers, uh, sir,” he stammered and promptly threw the can over his shoulder and out the kitchen window.

“Hey!” someone cried from outside. “What the fuck?!”

Jessica smacked Parker’s arm. “You’re twenty-one! Would you chill?”

“Not until October,” Steve drawled.

“I only had a sip!” Parker warbled. “I won’t have any more! I promise!”

Steve glanced at Sam and they both held back smiles.

“i didn’t see nothin’,” Sam muttered.

“Mind if we just check outside?” Steve asked Natasha, who just waved him on. She knew the drill.

“Swear we’re not harbouring fugitives,” Clint said. “Ow!  _Jesus_ , woman!”

Steve went out the back door and surveyed the small group of people sitting in plastic chairs round a cheap old firepit. He also distinctly heard Jessica murmur something about how much she liked men in uniform.

“Evening,” Steve tapped his hat and surveyed the group.

“Is that Officer Rogers?” Matt Murdock said with a large smile. “Welcome.”

Claire Temple raised her wine, as well as Foggy Nelson, the only reputable lawyer in the whole city. The only man willing to represent the reprobates from all corners.

“Rogers,” Bucky also added, sitting beside Claire, beer in his hands, all ease.

Steve cleared his throat, “Uh, just following up on a call. Can’t be making too much noise at this hour.”

“Gotcha,” Claire said. “The music was shit anyway.”

“The one time we all try to hang out,” Foggy chuckled. “Well, thanks for checking in. Wouldn’t want this crazy thing to get out of control.” Everyone snickered and Steve couldn’t miss the way Bucky smirked and eyed him.

“Why don’t you stay?” Claire asked. “More then enough room.”

“Ah,” Steve scratched his nose, “Still on duty, so no can do.”

He glanced at Bucky, who was still staring.

“Pity,” Jessica said from behind him. She goosed him and Steve gasped.

The others cackled with glee and Steve just got all flustered.

“Why don’t you two roll over when you’re done, then?” Matt said. “I’m sure we’ll all still be here, just a bit more lopsided.”

Bucky waggled his brows at Steve, sure that nobody was paying him any attention, and Steve swallowed uncomfortably, willing his body to  _calm the fuck down_.

“Um, I’m not sure on that, but…” he blinked at them all, all these good folks. “We’ll consider it.”

Jessica poked him in the back, and Steve shifted. “I guess,” Steve murmured awkwardly, squeezing past her, “That’ll be all.”

And he made his way back to Sam, back to safety.

 

* * *

  


He really shouldn’t have followed through. He should have followed Sam’s example and just gone home and fallen into bed.

But he was dumb as shit and horny to boot.

He’d gone over to the party and found the whole bunch of ‘em loaded up and hilarious, like always.

He got to drinking and then relaxing and doing his best to not be the obvious law enforcement in the room.

Which meant more drinking and garbage food and dirty,  _dirty_ jokes that caused Steve to burn red with embarrassment.

And then, somehow, Barnes had offered to walk him home.

And that was how he got himself into this situation,  _again._

“We can’t,” Steve gasped, grabbing at the hem of Bucky’s shirt. Bucky kissed him, bit at his lip, and pushed him further into the house.

“Yeah, I know,” Bucky ground out, grabbing at Steve through his jeans. “But then again, I never listen to police.”

Steve whimpered and finally got the stupid shirt off Bucky, freeing up glorious real estate for his hands to touch and caress.

“Jesus, you’re built like a tank,” Steve gasped, pulling back to look Bucky over.

“And you ain’t?” Bucky smirked, shucking Steve of his own button-down. “Been lifting heavy again, huh?” he purred, running his thumbs over Steve’s nipples.

“I thought you didn’t want this anymore,” Steve licked at Bucky’s mouth. He stumbled when his legs met the sofa and he sat down heavily.

“I don’t,” Bucky leaned over, then clambered into Steve’s lap.

“You’re so confusing,” Steve huffed, hands going to unbuckle Bucky’s belt.

He grabbed at Bucky through his underwear and the other man gasped loudly, planting his forearms on Steve’s shoulders.

“It’s simple,” Bucky muttered, rolling his hips. “This one time. ‘Cos we need to.”

“B-but–“ Steve breathed and shifted so he could yank at Bucky’s jeans and free that glorious ass from its prison. “What about the other times?”

“Shut up, Rogers,” Bucky growled, pressing his dick against Steve’s own bulge.

They lost all words when Steve got his hands down the back of Bucky’s underwear and the two of them just rubbed their dicks against one another like rutting teenagers.

“Fuck, listening to you get all flustered when Romanov mentions strap-ons,  _God,_ ” Bucky gasped. “Like you didn’t ask me to  _fuck_  you harder last time.”

“Unhh,” Steve’s voice wavered up and down.

“Tell me you have lube,” Bucky breathed over his ear.

“I–“ Steve gasped, “I, yeah. Yeah, upstairs.”

Bucky pulled back. “Are you shitting me?”

“What?” Steve asked. “I don’t usually have people _crawling over me_  on my sofa.”

Bucky sat back, pants open and his body just so …

“Fine!” Steve grunted and pushed at him. “Let’s go upstairs.” He got to his feet and yanked his jeans up so they weren’t sagging down his ass.

“Or you can just bring it down here,” Bucky drawled, draping himself over Steve’s brand new sofa.

“Ugh,” Steve groaned and headed to the staircase. He did good; he didn’t run, or hurry or anything, because he was a grown police officer with a fine-tuned sense of control.

He rummaged through his beside table, then remembered that he hadn’t unpacked  _everything_ , so he had to rip open a few moving boxes to find the stupid tube of strawberry lube.

 

“Finally,” Bucky said, when Steve reappeared downstairs. “Thought you’d died up there.”

Steve waved a condom between his fingers and just paused, eyeing the man lying on his furniture.

Bucky had an arm behind his head, propped up by some cushions and he was completely naked, something Steve had as yet never seen, as most of their random trysts were hasty jobs in bursts of free time.

“Well?” Bucky growled.

Steve walked over and moved Bucky’s legs up, splitting them open so he could slide onto the sofa seat between them.

“You gonna let me do it?” he asked, voice all gravel.

Bucky smirked and rolled his hips. “I was really hoping you’d be up for it,” he drawled.

“Oh,” Steve leaned over him to get in a good, long kiss. “I’m totally up for it.”

 

* * *

  


Bucky was almost folded in half, Steve driving into him so good, so perfectly.

“Fuck,” Steve panted, feeling the muscles in his legs and butt flexing. “You good?”

Bucky nodded and licked his lips, eyes closing as Steve hit him in  _just_  the right spot.

“Yeah,” Bucky breathed, and he looked so fucking gorgeous it made Steve’s breath catch, even while his orgasm crested.

“I’m gonna,” he panted, voice cracking, “I’m gonna–”

“Come inside me, baby, fill me up,” Bucky hummed, rolling his hips again. And okay, Steve was aware of the condom and how idiotic it sounded, but  _christ in heaven_ , did it knock him right off the edge to hear Bucky say that.

“Ohhh…” Steve breathed, falling heavily onto the other man. “Buck…” He shuddered and his dick did what it did best.

Bucky chuckled. “Well, that was stellar.”

Steve nodded, his heart still pounding, his skin hot.

Bucky patted his hair and neck and it was almost criminally kind.

When Steve got more of his wits back inside his skull he realized there was still an insistent boner pressing into his belly.

He looked down, then back up and at Bucky.

The man smirked, “Hi.”

“Mmmm,” Steve shifted and pulled out, which seemed to cause ripples of pleasure through Bucky in his current state.

Steve scooted down the sofa, his legs dangling off the end inelegantly.

“You’re gonna have to sit up for this,” he murmured, and licked his lips hungrily.

And boy, could Bucky move fast when a blowjob was heading his way.

 

* * *

  


“Here’s that report from last week,” Karen said, dropping the folder on Steve’s desk.

“Thanks,” he murmured, engrossed in his current work.

“Where’s Wilson?” Karen asked, seating herself at her own desk.

“Picking up his mother at the airport,” Steve chewed on his pen cap, then scribbled down notes.

They worked in amiable silence a little longer. It was the good kind of silence, before any more shitstorms came raining down on the precinct.

“Cap?”

Steve blinked and looked up.

“Yeah?”

Karen tilted her head with a smile, “You okay? You seem a little out of it.”

Steve shook his head. “I’m good.”

She pursed her lips and rested her chin on her hand, elbow to the desk. “Just, you seem off. You getting enough sleep?”

Steve nodded. Sure. Sleep was good.

A racing mind and serious frustration was something else, but yeah, he was sleeping.

Realizing she wasn’t going to get anything more out of him, she sighed. “Okay, but I miss that ol’ smile of yours. Seems to have gone missing a few days back.”

Steve just shook his head and got back to the work at hand. He didn’t have time to consider every little detail plaguing his mind right now, so he chose to bury it all and leave it be.

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> There's a lot of fun in writing this series. I have so many ideas, but am unsure if I'll write them all. So in the meantime, just thanks for reading!


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